


Concerning the Obedience of John Childermass

by thaumatomane (choosedailymail)



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Bonding, Community: jsmn-kinkmeme, Discipline, First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Canon, cabin boy Childermass, young Childermass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choosedailymail/pseuds/thaumatomane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Employing a man with no prior training, dubious origins, and a propensity for practical magic was probably the least likely thing Gilbert Norrell had ever done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concerning the Obedience of John Childermass

Employing a man with no prior training, dubious origins, and a propensity for practical magic was probably the least likely thing Gilbert Norrell had ever done. And John Childermass, if that were his real name, could barely be called a man at all. When asked, he confessed his age to be eighteen years. He was an underweight, scraggly sort of fellow whose east Yorkshire cant required considerable deciphering. Certainly, it was highly questionable that such a scholarly, unsociable man as Mr Norrell would want someone like John Childermass in his service, but Norrell did nothing without good reason.

Norrell was aware Childermass had naval experience as a cabin and powder boy – a position he abandoned once he grewn too tall and far too disenchanted by how little honour meant to the dead – proving he could follow orders and work under pressure.[1] His manners were disagreeably those of a sailor, but then, agreeably, his seafarer’s loyalty could prove useful. These positive traits, as sparse as they were, were not the only ones that drew the two men together.

You would assume the circumstances of their meeting would have discouraged Norrell from ever putting himself in the company of this young man again. The fact that Childermass could easily infiltrate Norrell’s labyrinthine boundaries to his house, library, and indeed his very person, was yet another unfavourable quality. What Norrell did see within Childermass however was potential, more potential than he’d seen in any man claiming himself a magician in the last twenty years. He sensed Childermass’ magic and understood what a threat he could become if he was allowed to harness those abilities, even if Childermass perhaps did not realise it himself. What better way to neutralise a threat, Norrell thought, than to nurture it into an ally of his own cause.

Childermass had his own reasons for applying to Mr Norrell that went far beyond those typical to men of his age and background seeking work. He did not desire to be rich, having survived hand-to-mouth as far back as he could remember. The same went for the safety of four walls at his side and a roof above his head. Childermass was bright. He was born with that rare quality of not only being able to observe much more than others, but of taking time to analyse what he saw. It was why he learned languages rapidly, possessed a rich vocabulary contrary to his birth, and had about as much knowledge (if not more so) than someone his age lucky enough to have received an education.[2] Childermass knew a magician when he saw one, and he knew himself. His recently procured cards of Marseilles were speaking to him more and more of the Raven King, and how their destinies were linked. It was something he had known his whole life, dreamt of often, and was fascinated by. It was also something he had never entirely understood. He had to do something.

Stalking a man like Gilbert Norrell was no easy task. Not because of the many enchantments he, a paranoid and secretive man, might have about him (and he had many), but because he very rarely left home. Childermass attempted to learn more about the mysterious Mr Norrell through his staff, by dropping the odd question regarding their master’s activities after following them to ale houses and booksellers. They, all of them, were eerily tight-lipped.[3] He researched the provenance of Hurtfew Abbey, Mr Norrell’s inherited home, and was as shocked as he was excited to discover it was built by John Uskglass himself. Norrell was obviously of great importance to the future of English magic and to the King of the North’s return. Perhaps this was why he lived shrouded in secrecy and the townsfolk were happy to gossip about this mysterious and reclusive local. That didn’t explain his refusal to answer, or even acknowledge, any of Childermass’ many letters.

Becoming desperate, Childermass chose perhaps the least effective method of persuasion when it came to Mr Norrell – cornering him.

On the odd occasion Norrell decided to go out, he always employed a particular spell that repelled any undesirable attention he might receive. Anyone who attempted to speak to him, (perhaps quiz him on a magical story in the newspaper or ask for his assistance), would find themselves incapable. The spell was unspecific in its method, but it covered many avenues. Those wishing to talk to the magician might forget their words as they approached, become too embarrassed to speak, feel a sudden sense of fear or nausea in his presence, or simply be distracted by another task. However it happened, Norrell felt secure no one would bother him.[4] There was a second precaution also, in the form of a simple incantation making Norrell impervious to touch. Pickpockets would find it impossible to rob him, or children to grab at him, and crowds could not push him off his feet. Both spells were useful, and both spells were useless when it came to Childermass.

Norrell could not deny that John Childermass had seized his attention that day. Marching straight through the spells, clasping his hands onto Norrell’s shoulders he stood, towering in front of him with wildly dark, determined eyes. “I believe you a magician Sir,” he had said, “as I do myself. I am a servant of John Uskglass and I beg your apprenticeship.”[5]

It was made explicitly clear from the outset that Childermass should not expect any sort of apprenticeship from Mr Norrell. When and only when he proved himself trustworthy to Norrell’s standards, would he consider educating him on the history of English magic. Childermass appreciated being given a chance. Indeed, he had not expected to be given one so easily. Norrell was fully aware Childermass was only here in the pursuit of knowledge, and Childermass did not doubt he would be. But only Norrell knew that what he would choose to teach him, would be only what he was happy for him to know. A selective history. Nothing practical, nothing dangerous and certainly nothing pertaining to the Raven King. He had won Childermass over (who was eager to negotiate his way to being offered more than just a history lesson) with a bargain. Either he joined Norrell’s household as a servant (with a paid wage, naturally) and worked his way up within it, or he left then and would never again be welcome on or near his property. Childermass never once regretted his decision to accept the offer.

Childermass’ first few months at Hurtfew were the same as any servant’s might be. He kept his head down. He was taught how to behave by the head footman, how to speak correctly and how to properly arrange a table. He polished shoes, mopped kitchen floors and mucked out stables. Quickly, he began to fall into a servant’s routine: early mornings, late nights, hard work. He rarely saw the master of the house. When he did, he was paid almost no attention by him. Childermass knew he needed to play the long game to get what he wanted. If Mr Norrell was testing his patience he would be sorely disappointed.

Life in service was so often disrupted. Maids would leave to start families. Footmen would find better wages elsewhere, or desire a change of location. Opportunities would arise for the kitchen staff, the coachmen, the valets. People came and went. The only difference in Mr Norrell’s household was that he vetted each newcomer personally, being very particular about the sort of person he wanted in his employ. Childermass soon found himself in the role of footman. His predecessor had explained that one could only access Mr Norrell’s library (in a wing of the house Childermass had not yet been granted access) when he rang. If an attempt was made to enter the library at any other time, one would find themselves lost within the maze that guarded it. Anyone who was so unlucky was fired on the spot.

Norrell had not rang. Instead, Childermass heard an almighty thud and a cry unmistakably his master’s whilst polishing cabinet glass in a corridor near the library. Hurrying through the house (forgetting what he had been told) Childermass rushed into the library and found Mr Norrell lying at the foot of a rolling ladder, surrounded by the overlarge quantity of books he had attempted to carry down it and in doing so lost his balance. Nothing more than his pride was hurt, but Norrell happily accepted Childermass’ helpful arm and expression of concern. Belatedly, Norrell interrogated Childermass on exactly how he had made it through the labyrinth and to his side. He seemed satisfied with Childermass’ answer. “It was just a corridor Sir, it led me straight to you.”

Aged nineteen, and in his seventh month at Hurtfew, Childermass was promoted to a peculiar (and unnamed) position that could be roughly described as a library assistant. What began as menial cleaning, dusting and fetching, soon became rebinding, repairing and taking dictation. Norrell was inwardly pleased with how speedily Childermass learned the titles, case and shelf numbers of his collection, and how rarely he interrupted his reading. Childermass was soon given the task of gathering local print literature, to discover advertisements of interest (book and estate sales, auctions etc.) and articles reporting so-called magical activity. He then compiled a digest for Norrell, who usually dismissed them immediately, knowing there was nothing worthy of further investigation. The odd letter was given to Childermass to answer on his behalf, which would be thoroughly checked before being sent out. Throughout this period, Norrell made it very clear that Childermass was not to read any of the books he would be tempted by daily. He was to continue to work hard, therefore proving he was worthy of them.

In passing, Norrell explained to Childermass that Sutton-Grove’s De Generibus Artium Magicarum Anglorum was to modern magic as the Bible was to Christians.[6] Within its dauntingly-sized volume, meticulous charts and tables detailed exactly those types of magic a respectable English magician should study. It was why, when Childermass had been granted his own desk in the library and had taken a moment to read his cards upon it, Norrell’s statement of “this type of magic is not mentioned in Sutton-Grove” made sense. “I will not have those in my library,” he had gone on to say, with a sweeping gesture of his hand. To Childermass, this made less sense.

Childermass was obedient and as instructed kept his cards in his room from that moment on.[7] However, he had begun to doubt some the things Mr Norrell told him, even when he told him very little. For ease of reference (and because the book was too heavy to keep shelving and unshelving) Norrell usually kept his least-perfect copy of De Generibus on his desk. Whilst his master was breakfasting one morning, Childermass decided it wouldn’t hurt to flick through the volume, seeing as it was already lying open. The book was vast and peculiarly organised, so it took Childermass several minutes to comprehend which section might contain the prognostic magic he had been told would not be included within its covers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Childermass jumped when he heard Norrell’s voice. Norrell did not creep or sneak, neither was he particularly light-footed, but Childermass had not heard him enter the library, nor walk up behind him to catch him reading what was out of bounds. Childermass quickly flipped the book closed.

“Cleaning your desk Sir.”

Norrell lowered his head and let out a long, disappointed sigh. “And I was just beginning to trust you,” he said under his breath. Childermass felt his heart plummet in his chest. Not only had he very obviously been reading one of Norrell’s books, he had very obviously lied about it too.

“Sir, I –,” he went to explain himself, to apologise and plead for Norrell’s forgiveness, but was cut off when Norrell put a hand up between them sharply.

“Enough,” he said, calm but firm, “if you insist in prying you shall do it on my terms.” With that, he picked up De Generibus and put it into Childermass’ hands. “Sit.” Norrell pointed to the small hearthside stool opposite his own comfortable armchair. Childermass sat, the book both a weight on his conscience and in his hands, and waited for his master to settle in his seat. Norrell cleared his throat. “You will read the entire text aloud to me.”

Childermass nodded, shamefaced, and opened the book to the first page. While he knew the mammoth task ahead of him was clearly a punishment, he wondered if this teaching of a lesson might also count as his first sniff of tutorage.

After four and a half solid hours of reading aloud to Norrell (in which breaks had only been permitted for Childermass to sip water) Childermass began to realise just how meticulous and pedantic this Francis Sutton-Grove was. Other than correcting Childermass’ pronunciation of certain words, and reminding him of the proper way to turn such precious pages, Norrell had sat silently and listened, enjoying the refresher of work he so admired. At one point Norrell looked to have fallen asleep in his armchair. Childermass had paused, not wanting to waste breath if he would be made to repeat himself, and through closed eyes Norrell told him (rather abruptly) to continue. By five o’clock in the evening Norrell stopped him. They would resume, from not even a quarter of a way through the text, the following morning. But Childermass was not excused from his daily duties. He would complete them this evening, in his own time.

On the third day of reading, Childermass reached Norrell’s favourite section of De Generibus: weather spells. Talk of tides, storms and maelstroms brought back sudden olfactory memories of Childermass’ time at sea – that acrid scent of sweat, bile, gunpowder and salt – a world so different to the one he now inhabited. On one particularly rocky night, Childermass had lain awake in his hammock as the ship furiously creaked and groaned. He listened as the men shared tales of cursed shoals, apparitions of dead captains, and islands made of nothing but fog and rain. In the warm and musty silence of Norrell’s library, Childermass read aloud to his master of the magical fashioning of rainwater into objects that “dependent on precipitate intensity might range from those as small as a raft, to the size of entire islands.”

“Can that really be done?” Childermass asked, quite out of the blue. He always assumed his shipmate’s stories were results of madness, but on the other side of the Earth magic was not as bereft as it was in England, and this he had seen for himself. Norrell blinked open his eyes. Thus far, Childermass had done exactly as instructed. He had read from the text and queried none of it.

“You have been told to read,” he said, very clearly, “not to question.” Childermass nodded and continued.

If Mr Norrell was honest, being read De Generibus in its entirety (and therefore reminded of what he knew and didn’t know in the immense field of English magic) was not the only thing he was finding enjoyable about Childermass’ chastisement. Even Norrell, who abhorred idle chatter and relished silence, thought Childermass had a pleasantly soothing voice. He was accustomed to the thickness of his accent now and had little trouble understanding it since becoming such a comfort to listen to. As the end of the book drew nearer, Norrell wished, for the first time in his life, that it were longer.

It took just over a week for Childermass to complete the book. After long days of reading paragraphs, tables and lists (and long nights of finishing his remaining duties) his throat had grown hoarse and his eyes tired-looking. He was also left with more questions about practical magic than he ever imagined possible. Hopefully, now that his punishment was over, it would be acceptable to ask them. But Norrell was not satisfied by Childermass’ atonement yet. Once the reading was done, he stocked Childermass’ desk with new ink and paper and asked him to sit at it. He dropped the book down in front of him with a thud.

“Now copy it out.”

Childermass’ reaction was everything. If he showed even the slightest hint of resistance, Norrell would know his obedience only stretched so far. Duplicating the book would take months. Norrell needed to know if Childermass could be trusted to do it properly. There was a simple comparison spell (mentioned in De Generibus, though not thoroughly) which could compare articles and therefore identify cheating. If Childermass skipped a line every page or so to save time, the spell would discover it. If he copied accurately Norrell felt his lost trust could be restored.

With the thud the book made as it landed still echoing from the stone walls of the library, Childermass nodded. “Yes Sir.” He did not hesitate in doing as he was asked. Picking up his pen, he wrote the book’s title at the head of a sheet of paper. It pleased Norrell greatly.

As the days passed, Norrell felt more and more satisfied with his method of punishment and more and more comfortable with Childermass. Childermass was almost completely silent as he copied, only the scratch of quill against paper and the odd flick of a page turn heard from his desk. Norrell could study, and if he needed anything Childermass was eager to leave his mind-numbing task for a moment to help. Childermass was also learning. By the time he finished his second read-through of De Generibus’ broad detail (which covered almost forty thousand topics) he would know all types of respectable magic. It would be brilliant base-knowledge for his tutoring, even if it was to be entirely theoretical.

Whilst Childermass continued to work, Norrell created some tests on Sutton-Grove’s material and wrote up a lesson plan for a basic three year period of study. He hoped this work would not go to waste if Childermass was taking him for a fool by cheating. After two weeks where Childermass worked from dawn until dusk on his task, Norrell could not help but use the comparison spell on the stack of inked paper. His chest tightened when he saw the inconsistencies appear, as floating images above the pages. Upon closer inspection they were nothing but basic spelling errors, a ‘t’ not crossed or a difficult word missing a letter. Again, Norrell was silently pleased by Childermass and felt that not only was he beginning to trust him, but beginning to enjoy his company.

Despite his outwardly calm appearance, Childermass was becoming weary. His hands were sore from constant writing. His back was starting to cramp from all the sitting, leaning and page turning. His fingertips were ink-stained so considerably that even scrubbing in scalding water did nothing to help. Truly, he felt he had learnt his lesson. Never again would he sneak a look into one of Mr Norrell’s books, not if it brought consequences such as these. However, he felt that some good had come from this. The amount of information in just this one volume had made the extent of his ignorance concerning magic very clear. His assumption, calling himself a magician because he could read cards (which he had discovered was not in Sutton-Grove after all) and occasionally turn himself into shadow, was entirely baseless.[8] He had a lot to learn.

When Childermass turned the last page of Francis Sutton-Groves’ monotonous work, it felt as though he had been holding his breath for the last month and a half. Norrell peered over the top of his own reading to watch the signals of Childermass’ accomplishment: the straightening of papers, the return of his quill to its stand, the stretching of his arms and shoulders, and the gentle massaging of his own wrist. “You are done?” he asked, lowering his book to his lap.

“I am Sir.”

Norrell made his way over to the other man’s desk, many piles of pages stacked high upon it. He wasted no time in investigating the accuracy of Childermass’ duplication. Holding a hand above the mountain of ink and paper he whispered the words of the spell he had been so eager to perform. Childermass’ eyes widened as he witnessed the translucent letters and words lift from the pages like coloured smoke before melting into the air. This was the first time he had seen Mr Norrell perform magic and awe was clearly visible on his face.[9] Once again, the only errors were of spelling and the odd blot of ink the spell could not interpret. Not only was this the first time Childermass had seen his master perform magic, it was also the first time he had seen him smile. It was the barest hint of a smile, but he saw it.

“I hope you made use of the learning opportunity here Childermass,” Norrell said, tapping the cover of De Generibus. Before he could answer, Norrell continued, “As I have taken the liberty of creating some assessments on the material.” Childermass stared up at him expectantly, still massaging his wrist. “You’ll take them tomorrow morning. If you score highly I will be pleased to begin your tutoring.”

Childermass did impressively well on the tests. His basic knowledge of respectable, modern magic was exactly how Norrell wished it to be. Any deviation from that scope and Norrell would make sure to quash it. With his plans laid out on the desk they both sat at, Norrell explained what he would be covering in the subsequent three years. The first year would focus on (a select) magical history and those few Argentine magicians and magio-historians Norrell approved of, the second on English magical law, and the third on articles relating to magic (water, bells, flowers, etc.) None of these topics would give undeserved attention to the work of fairies or the so called Raven King.

For Childermass to be truly useful whilst studying he would need to know how to do more than just answer the odd letter or compile a digest. Alongside his magical tuition Norrell would teach Childermass how to manage his household, finances and all aspects of his day-to-day business. Eventually he would be entrusted with them entirely, leaving Norrell with more time to study and practise. Ultimately, this was always Norrell’s goal. Not only would he shape and control the first real threat to him in two decades into a follower of his own beliefs, but he would gain a man of business who owed a great deal of loyalty to him. After those initial years of study, if Norrell was satisfied Childermass could be left to his own devices (and dispel the ludicrous notion of being a servant of the Raven King), he would perhaps teach him a basic spell or two.

When Childermass was twenty five, Norrell became highly startled by reports of magic in Bath that sounded remarkably genuine. Promptly, and with jittery hands, he taught his man of business his first spell. It was Jacques Belasis’ Scopus, a spell which can detect if magic is taking place. When Childermass returned, having found nothing but a demented soothsayer experiencing one too many coincidental occurrences, Norrell was beside himself with worry. He had eaten and slept poorly during Childermass’ three-day absence and realised how much he had come to depend on him for support, company and assurance these last few years. If Norrell’s extreme anxiety over being eclipsed by another, better magician had not been obvious to Childermass before, it certainly was on this occasion. It was why he practiced his own magic away from his master’s gaze, to protect him from the stress it would inevitably cause him.[10]

The two men formed a strong bond. Not because of similar views, or any particular blossoming friendship, but of their mutual passion and reverence for magic. Norrell forgave Childermass his failings, such as his tendency toward bluntness, and his lack of deference to higher classes. Childermass forgave his master for his fastidiousness, fondness of rules, and how difficult he was to please. They found solace in each other, even if neither man could pinpoint exactly why.

One day, almost sixteen years after Childermass came into Mr Norrell’s employment, the rattle of a carriage outside brought with it the arrival of two men. They had come to ask the magician an important question. Their names were John Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot.

##### Footnotes (click number to return to place within text)

1  Childermass neglected to mention his resignation was more his Captain’s decision than his own. Sailors were a superstitious lot. After predicting with precise accuracy how several of his shipmates would meet their watery ends during the Battle of the Saintes, nobody wanted the black-handed tyke to remain on board. He served less than a year.

2  Languages Childermass learned to semi-fluency prior to his eighteenth birthday were French, Scottish Gaelic, and Latin.

3  Later Childermass discovered that before he began his service at Hurtfew, Mr Norrell secretly bewitched his servants so they could not speak of him outside of the Abbey’s grounds. He was unable to cast the spell upon Childermass. When Childermass learned the truth he explained to his master that it was unethical to alter people’s freewill so unfairly and the practise stopped.

4  Norrell had a similar spell in place upon Hurtfew Abbey’s grounds. Any unsolicited visitors would feel similarly to those who wished to speak to Mr Norrell in public. The spell allowed the occasional visitor to bypass its protection, but only if they would be nothing but a positive influence on Norrell and his work.

5  The spell’s effects did not bypass Childermass completely on this occasion. Once he had announced his speech at speed, overcome with dizziness he fainted on the pavement. It did not stop Norrell from being impressed (despite initial shock) and Childermass woke to the sight of Norrell’s coachmen informing him of his master’s wish to meet with him at Hurtfew the following day.

6  Norrell went on to translate the title from the Latin to English (Concerning the Varieties of English Magic) for Childermass’ benefit. Childermass thanked his master and did not feel it worth mentioning that he could understand it quite well on his own.

7  For the first few days without the cards on his person Childermass felt unsafe and on occasion panicked. During his time on the streets where he worked a number of different jobs to get by, his cards became a crutch. They guided him, helping him understand what needed to be done each day to remain alive at the end of it. The matter of survival was no longer a concern under Mr Norrell’s roof, but he found it hard to end such a habit so immediately.

8  Childermass first discovered he could disguise himself as shadow when he was seven years old. After picking the pocket of a distinguished gentleman, he had been caught red-handed and promptly chased. Cornered at the end of an alley, he rushed into a dark corner and somehow understood what he needed to do to evade capture. When Jonathan Strange had later gone on to compare magic to music in one’s head, where a magician simply knows the notes which follow, Childermass thought of this memory.

9  The particular spell Norrell performed had a variety of uses. However, the revelation (in this situation in the form of lifted text) is only ever visible to magicians. It was obvious Childermass could see Norrell’s magic and this was yet another indication of the man’s potential. Norrell would not deny Childermass’ abilities made him anxious, but the satisfaction of seeing him gawp at him with such wonder helped in settling his nerves.

10  Once given free access to his master’s books Childermass experimented with practical magic sparingly. He never allowed himself to forget or underestimate his abilities despite how much Norrell would disapprove. From early in his employment Childermass (and his cards) knew Norrell would be the key to returning magic to England. This, along with his gratitude for taking him in, was why he would continue to support and encourage his master in increasing his skills. Whilst Norrell remained resolute in constant study and keeping others (less worthy than himself) from his field, Childermass too remained resolute in his own creed: returning John Uskglass’ magic to England.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Kink Meme which requested Childermass being disciplined around the time he came into Norrell's service. 
> 
> http://jsmn-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1613.html?thread=1677389#cmt1677389


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